Clandestine
by flowerpicture
Summary: Stendan fluff/smut, or something. Quick one shot.


It's not that he's jealous. He's not. Really. It's just he knows that Steven can do _better_. He shouldn't be wasting his time with that no-mark, with his dark wavy hair and suspicious dimples and the brazenly pink tie.

But then, it's not like Steven has ever really had standards. There was the Noah situation. And Douglas. Brendan gave him a taste of quality but it appears he's fallen back on old habits. Namely, picking boring and limp men as dates.

"You wanna dance?"

Brendan's brought his own date. He's even surprised himself. The idea never crossed his mind until he overheard Steven telling Cheryl all about the fella he'd asked to this wedding. Something about that eavesdropped conversation motivated Brendan into scoping out the club that night, looking for a possibility. Found him, a young lad by the name of Geoffrey-call-me-Geoff, a nice enough bloke by any means but Brendan's not seeing anything beyond a fuck or two.

He glances across at Geoff. "I don't dance."

They're both leaning against the bar, watching the dance floor. Mitzeee's in the middle of it, slinking around that idiot she chose to marry, her off-white wedding dress barely scraping her knees, showcasing her garter every time she gyrates. All class, that Mitzeee.

Geoff's getting huffy. "I'm not standing here all night."

Steven comes back into view on the dance floor, pulling his date by the hand. He's wearing a suit and tie, a little too big on the shoulders but curving nicely around his hips and thighs. Brendan wants him to turn around, get a look at the back.

There's an air of boredom to Steven. He's got his arms looped around his date's neck now, swaying gently to the music, but his gaze is wandering, and the body language is all wrong. Like pre-teens at a school dance—inches of space between them, the awkward shuffle of feet.

Brendan waits for that wandering gaze to find him. He's not disappointed.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"'Course I am," Brendan drawls. Steven's eyes are locked on him, finding a path to the sight of him even through all the bodies.

And yeah, Brendan's still this petty. "Maybe you can persuade me," he murmurs out the corner of his mouth to Geoff.

"Like how?"

"Use your imagination."

It perks Geoff up, like Brendan hoped it would, and he croons, "Oh yeah?" seductively before sliding over into Brendan's space, an arm behind him on the bar, his breath warm on the side of his face. "Like this?"

Then there are lips trailing along his jawline, up towards his ear, the flick of a tongue and the breathy plea of, "Please dance with me, Brendan." Geoff's hand on his chest now, fingertips dipping through the gaps between his shirt buttons to find skin and hair. "I'll do _anything_…"

Steven's watching, like Brendan wanted him to. His eyes are narrowing, like Brendan wanted them to. And his expression is clouding over, making Brendan smirk.

He gets a hand on Geoff's waist, smoothes around and down for a handful of arse cheek.

Steven tracks the movement.

Brendan breaks the contact to look down into Geoff's face; he's taken by surprise when Geoff plants a kiss on him before he can say anything. He wants to rear his head back and tell the kid to back off but he's put on enough of a show now that he can't. This is their first kiss. If Brendan was ever going to kiss him, it wouldn't be like this. It was never supposed to happen in front of Steven. It's not Brendan's style to use random men to get under Steven's skin. Not anymore. Play up to that delicious jealous streak in him, sure, but subtly. This is—it's twisted, is what it is.

But it's happened now, and he has no choice but to go along with it for a moment or two. Lets the kid press their lips together, the briefest sweep of a tongue, then he breaks it as gently as he can. He doesn't want to upset the lad. He might need him later.

He glances up in time to watch Steven walk away from his date, leaving the guy looking forlorn and lost in the middle of the dance floor.

"Tell you what," Brendan says to Geoff, tipping his face up with knuckles under his jaw. "Why don't you ask that lad over there to dance? He looks lonely."

Geoff blinks at him. "Eh?"

"I need to go have a word with someone," he explains, as patiently as he can. "it's a family thing. But after that," he adds, offering the hint of a filthy smile, "I'm all yours."

It does the trick. Geoff's still a bit huffy about it, but he goes along with the suggestion anyway. When he catches sight of the man Brendan means—Steven's neglected date—his eyes light up in a way that should anger Brendan, if he cared enough.

He's too busy trying to figure out where Steven disappeared to.

He finds him, finally. Tucked away in a corner, half hidden by a drape of purple material Mitzeee stuck up all around the room in an attempt at decoration.

He's stood leaning back into the corner, ankles and arms crossed, and when he sees Brendan coming, he scowls before he makes the obvious effort to smooth out his expression.

"Hiya."

"Steven."

Brendan stops beside him, leaning back against the wall to join him, hands in his pockets. He doesn't look at Steven—gazes out at the dance floor, at where Geoff's talked that fella into a dance.

"See you've got yourself a new bloke."

There's a bitterness to Steven's tone he can't quite hide.

"Just a date," Brendan tells him, watching Geoff laugh at something Steven's fella says. "Seeing where it goes."

Steven makes a _hmm_ noise, but doesn't elaborate.

"They look like they're getting on, don't they?"

No response.

"You look bored, Steven."

Steven sighs a sigh laced with mild irritation. "Yeah, and what d'you suggest, eh?"

"Well," says Brendan, inclining his head to one side briefly. "You could always suck me off."

He can practically feel the venomous look shot at him for that.

"Too soon?"

"You think you're so funny," mutters Steven.

"I do," agrees Brendan.

Steven offered himself up on a plate a little more than a month ago, and Brendan turned him down. Killed him to do it, but he wasn't going to be anybody's rebound. Especially not Steven's.

It's not like Steven's just a fuck to him, something to use and discard. If he's going to fuck Steven, he wants to know there'll be a morning after. And the day after that. And every day, from then on, just the two of them. Together.

He wouldn't be able to cope, having Steven for one night, and then be nothing more than his regret the next day.

"Well you're not," Steven says crossly. When he next speaks, his voice is an embarrassed mumble. "Made a right mug of me, you did."

"I'm sorry." He means it with all sincerity.

Steven's quiet for a while, the pair of them gazing out at the guests dancing—although if Steven's anything like him, he's not really seeing anything at all.

Then Steven suddenly speaks again, stronger now. "Don't matter now anyway. I'm moving on."

"Yeah." Brendan nods, tries to look serious with it. "I imagine Douglas is very…difficult…to get over." He never really understood it. Douglas is such an irrelevant scrote. But obviously Steven saw something in him, enough to marry the guy.

Steven tutts. "I don't mean him, do I?"

"Oh." He wasn't expecting that. He swallows past a dry throat. "Steven—"

"Just leave it." He sounds angry with himself. "You made yourself very clear, don't worry."

"No, that wasn't—" He risks a glance at Steven's face, finds him staring down at the floor, the tops of his cheeks stained red.

When Brendan speaks, it's with quiet vulnerability. "I didn't want to be your distraction. I couldn't—it wouldn't be enough. For me."

Steven looks up at him sharply, eyes widening. "I never—Brendan, for god's sake."

It doesn't really explain anything, but Brendan hears enough in his tone to know what he wants to do next.

He looks away, back out at the room. "What if I said I didn't want you to move on?"

He can see Geoff and Steven's date. They're sat at a table now, huddled together on one side, lost in conversation. They don't seem particularly concerned with Brendan and Steven's absence.

Steven sucks in a soft breath, but says nothing.

"Hmm?" Brendan pushes. He takes his hands out of his pockets, straightens his cuffs. "What if I want you to come home with me tonight?"

"Just so you can tell me to get lost in the morning?" There's a barely perceptible tremor to Steven's voice.

"What if," Brendan says, then has to take a deep breath to calm the heavy thud of his heart, "I told you it kills me every day to see you in the village, and not be with you."

There's no movement or sound from beside him, not until Steven says in little more than a whisper: "You mean you want—"

"Yeah," he says, a hitch to the word as it leaves him. "Yeah, I do."

The lights go down, a slow number starting, something dark and sultry designed to get all the couples up on the floor. It plunges Brendan and Steven into shadow here in this corner, half camouflaged by the drapery, giving their little nook an air of thrilling intimacy that makes Brendan ache in the most desperate way.

He needs Steven to say something. Anything.

He looks at him, at the shadows cutting across his features. His eyes are like shining lights in this darkness and looking right at him.

"Brendan," Steven says slowly, then he licks his lips, a nervous gesture that makes Brendan's stomach twist with anticipation. "Can we go?"

"I can't yet, I have to do the speech soon." He shifts slightly over to Steven, his back dragging against the wall he's leaning on, gets close enough to feel Steven's heat in the air. "But I can touch you now," he says, quietly, "if you want."

Even in the shadows, he can see Steven's swallow.

"Please," he rasps, dipping his head forward to get the scent of him. "Let me touch you."

Steven's eyes dart around the room, analysing the risks, but he must come to the same conclusion Brendan has—that they're hidden enough, and no one's paying attention anyway—because he says, "Okay."

The breath Brendan releases is stuttered.

"Stand up straight for me," Brendan says, "and undo the button on your trousers." His hands are shaking.

Steven hesitates, looking over at him coyly and then making another sweep of the room. Then he does as requested, straightens up away from the wall, a surreptitious hand going to the button on his trousers and popping it open, the front of his suit jacket hanging low enough to hide it.

It gives Brendan room to work—brings a hand to Steven's back, beneath his jacket, gets a fistful of Steven's shirt and pulls it loose from the back of his trousers. When he touches bare skin, Steven's eyelids flutter.

"Just stay still," Brendan murmurs to him, sliding closer still until he's almost pressed up against Steven's side, hiding from view everything he plans on doing. "And quiet."

"What're you going to do?" Steven turns towards him slightly, giving Brendan the perfect angle. To anyone looking, they would see two people standing close together and nothing more, not even when Brendan turns away from view briefly to spit on his fingers, rubbing them together to spread the saliva.

"Just try to keep quiet," Brendan warns him, before slipping his hand into the back of Steven's trousers and boxers and going straight for his hole.

Steven gasps.

Brendan says, "Easy now," even as his own heart leaps into his throat at the sensation of touching Steven so intimately, his dick already hardening, here in public where no one can really see them unless they're looking closely—unless someone happens to walk by this corner at the back of the room.

He has his sister in this room somewhere.

He pushes a fingertip harder against Steven's hole, teases it, rubbing circles and stimulating nerves and Steven's breathing is softly ragged, his hands curled in loose fists by his side.

"You gonna make me come like this?" he asks, pushing back slightly, forcing Brendan to breach him just barely, the tip of his finger, tight muscle clenching around it.

"No." Brendan retreats from Steven's hole then goes back in, then again, the very shallowest of rhythmic thrusts with one fingertip, Steven sweeping a tongue across his dry bottom lip, eyelids going to halfmast. "I'm gonna make you come on my cock."

Steven's mouth parts a little wider at that, head tipping back just an inch. "Here?"

"Yeah," says Brendan, pushing in further, all the way in with one finger. He doesn't remind Steven to keep quiet when he gasps again, lets the sound of it wash over him. "Right here, with all these people around. Need to stretch you out a bit first—" He works his finger in and out of Steven's hole, getting him used to the intrusion, waiting for him to relax enough to add a second finger but it's a tight fit, Steven's muscle fluttering around him, clenching and pushing back and there's a glimmer of sweat on his brow now—Brendan can see it even in this darkness. "You're so tight." It makes his teeth grit together, heat building at the base of his spine, cock straining behind his fly. "When was the last time you took a dick?"

"Haven't—since you—" Steven's voice is raspy, and Brendan's cock throbs at the words.

"Good," he says, increasing speed now, putting some weight behind the thrusts of his fingers into Steven's body, fucking him shallowly, mindful of not drawing any attention. "Good. Come back on my hand."

He twists his fingers inside Steven and then waits for Steven, looking a little shaken, to lean back against the wall with Brendan's fingers still stuffed in his hole, wedged in tight now, giving Brendan the perfect angle to press down hard and precise on his prostate.

Steven sucks in a harsh, ragged breath at the shock of it and Brendan can see he wants to cry out, doing everything he can to contain it with Brendan testing his will, rubbing directly onto his prostate in a tight back and forth motion as best he can at this angle, forcing sharp and unrelenting pleasure through him and it's too much for Steven, his eyes and lips squeezing shut as keening moans try to force their way out, Brendan attacking his prostate with deliberate precision until the moment Steven rears up on his tiptoes as if trying to escape the onslaught of intensity, as if trying not to come. Brendan takes pity on him, stops the movement, gives Steven a moment to calm down.

Then, as quickly as he can and without anyone noticing, he shifts them both around until he's hidden deep in the corner, and Steven's now leaning back against him.

"Pull that drape over a bit."

Steven's shaking a bit too much for coordination but he manages to follow the instruction, tugs on the drape until it slides across a few inches, obscuring them further from view. Enough to allow Brendan the opportunity to pull open his trousers, release his cock from its confines, yank the back of Steven's trousers down enough to expose his arse and give Brendan access. Then Brendan spits in his hand, slicks up his cock, and lines up with Steven's hole.

"You sure?"

"Shut up and do it," Steven shoots back at him, which is good enough.

He takes Steven by the hip and pulls him back onto his cock, uses his other hand to hold the front of his shirt out of the way so he can watch himself disappearing inside that beautiful body. Steven takes it silently, one hand on the wall beside him and the other grasping Brendan's thigh behind. Once Brendan's seated firmly inside him, they pause.

The music's changed, something more upbeat now, and he can hear the screams and cackles of women showing off on the dance floor. He ignores it all, his entire focus pinpointed on the sensation of his dick sitting inside Steven's body.

"Jesus," he says.

He starts thrusting, just short rolls of his hips, wants so badly to pound into this body but now's not the time or place and he doesn't need it anyway, already worked up high on pleasure on just this alone, having Steven now, touching him and pushing into him and he won't need long, doesn't think Steven will either.

"You can't touch yourself," Brendan warns him as he rocks his hips forward, sinking in deep. "They can't see me back here but they might see you…"

Steven's covered up on the front, his suit still mostly in place save for the slackening of his trousers where Brendan's got them hooked beneath his buttocks behind. He doesn't think anyone will know what's going on if they happen to glance this way, even if part of him kind of likes the idea of getting caught. Just not by his sister.

"Brendan—"

"You'll have to come on my cock if you wanna come."

It won't be a problem, he's pretty sure of that. Steven's panting harsh bursts of air as Brendan pushes into him on each thrust, his hand white-knuckled against the wall as he attempts to keep his balance. Brendan slides a little further down the wall to get a better angle, pulls Steven's hip back tighter against him, starts thrusting rapidly and shallow and deep, as deep as he can in this position, resists the urge to bite and suck on Steven's neck as electric heat spirals down his spine and breath knocks out of him on each thrust and he can't—has to touch Steven, witnesses be damned. Wraps both arms tight around him, pulling him back and in so close that his dick's going intensely deep and thrusts even quicker, grunting with it, digs a hand into the front of Steven's trousers and finds his dick and gives him a series of squeezing strokes that makes Steven throw a hand back to tangle in Brendan's hair, yank Brendan's face down to bury in his neck, rears up on his toes and pushes himself back violently onto Brendan's dick and comes, hard and almost silently, hips convulsing and hole clenching around Brendan and he can't hold back, doesn't want to, sinks teeth into the skin of Steven's neck and comes deep inside him, his whole body wrapped all around this man he loves so much.

Moments later, the first words out of Steven's mouth are not what he expects.

"What about our dates?"

"Reckon they're probably somewhere having their own fun," Brendan rasps, throat dry, and despite his great reluctance, he begins to disentangle himself from Steven and tidy himself up.

They've probably got away with it; he glances around the drapes, can't see anyone looking in their direction, no scandalised faces. He sighs in relief, turns back to find Steven grimacing at the feel of his own come drying in the front of his boxers. It sparks the weight of guilt and realisation in Brendan's gut.

"We didn't use a condom."

Steven looks up at him, eyes sharp with panic. Then he softens, and he busies himself with tucking in his shirt, looking entirely unconcerned now.

"We'll get tested," he says, doing up a shirt button that somehow managed to pop open, "and then we'll lose the condoms for good."

Sounds like a great plan to Brendan, and he can't help but smile at the hidden meaning in Steven's words.

Steven meets his smile with a kiss.


End file.
